


ablaze or alight

by gabriphales



Series: gomens drabble hell [66]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Whump, very unfortunate techniques at calming a panic attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25483834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabriphales/pseuds/gabriphales
Summary: gabriel tries to track down aziraphale before armageddon truly kicks in - he's met with a terrified demon instead
Relationships: Crowley/Gabriel (Good Omens), a/c is implied as well as a/g
Series: gomens drabble hell [66]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664713
Comments: 1
Kudos: 44





	ablaze or alight

**Author's Note:**

> cw for vomiting !! crowley is not having a good day

he has to talk to aziraphale. right now, that's the only thing gabriel has a mind to do. he's wrecked with this - this newfound _discovery_ of michael's. but he doesn't want to condemn aziraphale just yet. the angel he knows would never willingly dabble in the infernal without good reason. not his principality, surely not _his_ aziraphale. there has to be an excuse, a defining motive, _something_ to convince gabriel that he hasn't gone rogue. he's still one with heaven, he still belongs.

(he can't fall. that would be the utter undoing of gabriel.)

it's getting darker outside by the second. heavy clouds hanging ripe and full, clotting their wounds to avoid any early leaks. gabriel can't walk fast enough. of course, he isn't willing to burst into anything resembling a sprint - he's not here to make a spectacle of himself. even so, his loafers threaten to give way over slippery concrete; his ankles are on the verge of a horizontally angled fate by the time he finally sees it.

 _it._ or, at the very least, what's left of it. gabriel had never understood aziraphale's need to nest, always planting himself somewhere, keeping to his little coop for some spare couple hundred years, before moving onto the next place. he's been quite preoccupied with his shop for the last few centuries. gabriel can only hope he wasn't preoccupied with it today.

the whole building, ancient as it is, ought to have been replaced ages ago. that's all gabriel can think as he steps closer, getting a better look at the golden red of a former safe haven. fire, fire - there's _so much_ fire. gabriel's stomach twists on a dime, his heart burns like creeping acid. the taste of smoke settles on his tongue, and he swallows, he gags, he _rejects_ it.

none of the firefighters take any notice of his presence. none of them - not even as water sprays down the flames, scorching white sprinkling in upon the scourged remains of books. wood creaks, falling to the ground. this place is collapsing in on itself. and the clouds are heavier from it.

_demon._

gabriel can feel it before he really knows it's there. the sixth sense penetrates his nail's width thread of sanity, and he jerks around to face his opponent. his _threat._ the creature surely behind this all.

it's crowley. even worse - it's _weeping._ with tears that bunch in numbers, just like roses gathered together. a ruddy, flush-driven, spit-ridden bouquet. he coughs up a liquid cloudy and viscous, pure bile. on his hands and knees, gabriel doesn't think he's ever seen something so pitiful before. a wretched, bereaved animal of sorts. crying out for help, to the gods above, the souls below, _anybody_ with an ear to listen.

gabriel can hear him. against his better judgement, he decides to make this known.

"is this your doing?" he asks. excellent way to start a clearly needed conversation.

crowley's eyes bulge frantic and wide, he chokes on something indistinguishable - perhaps his own spit - and stands. or, rather, makes a poor, if valiant effort. his feet scramble and turn at jaunt, unnatural angles. gabriel holds him steady by his wrist, an iron grip burning ice into his skin.

"he's gone," crowley splutters. "he's gone."

gabriel drags him forwards, nearly tugging him off balance. "and what business would you have with him?"

crowley's eyes blister over with a tangible heat, he can hardly keep them open through his onslaught of sobs. harsh, open-mouthed crackles that tear through his throat. each one sounding sicker than the last.

"help," he whimpers.

"pardon?"

crowley does the unthinkable. he collapses, fallen to his knees, and begs. _begs_ an archangel.

" _help me,_ " his voice crisps around the edges, sounding nearly as burnt as his surroundings. "i can't find him. can't feel him. he - he's nowhere, he's _gone._ "

gabriel stares down at him, his mouth vacant, cold. 

"i'm sorry?" he says. it's a crooked, mislaid question.

"is he hurt? dead? i know you can tell, you can sense him, can't you?" crowley scrabbles and scratches at the floorboards below, an unfortunate byproduct of trying to push himself up, stabilize his lift with his palms.

gabriel stoops to his level instead, kneeling. "he isn't."

"not dead?" 

"no."

"or suffering? in pain?"

"i have no way of knowing that." gabriel hesitates, keeping a close eye on how crowley rocks himself back and forth, soothing his own body as he might a newborn child. "however, i should be able to find him. easily, in fact."

he pauses, realizing what he's done - informing the _enemy_ of his power, his abilities - it's a misstep on numerous accounts. why would he care to tell crowley all that in the first place? why would he - why does he _care?_

crowley makes a miserable noise, and gabriel's chest caves in.

he has to do something.

"hold onto me," he instructs, moving the thin-framed, trembling arms for him. they're slung over his shoulders, around his neck. and before crowley can struggle, or bear to think about running away - much less summon the strength to actually do so - gabriel has his head shoved tight against his chest. he can feel the heat of his tears, the subtle heave of his achy breaths. even the brush of snot, and saliva as he coughs once more. gabriel strains to not let his disgust show.

"breathe in." he curls his own arms around crowley. "breathe out."

"can't," crowley sniffles, on the verge of properly hyperventilating. "i can't, i have to find him, have to go - "

"you'll be of no use to him like this." gabriel says, the pinprick of irritation in his voice smarting at an already open wound. 

"he could be dying."

"he _isn't._ now, breathe in with me, alright? i'll show you how."

and he cups him by the back of his head, pressing him in closer. gabriel smells like lavender, like drowning in a field of lilacs, with pollen stuffed so far down his throat crowley knows he'll be flowering inside his lungs.

they breathe together. it works - at least, enough to keep crowley from combusting where he sits.

gabriel pulls back after crowley goes limp, as calm as he can get. with palms against his cheeks, holding him still as he forces their eyes to meet.

his voice drops. "now, let's find him. together."

"how will we?" crowley wipes his tired eyes, the wrinkled skin between his brows a clear reminder of how little he enjoys having gabriel as his sole confidante. 

"with patience, but we'll have to be quick about it."

the sky cracks open. bright, clean bolts of lightning shining through. crowley jolts, regrettably finding some sliver of reassurance in gabriel's presence. perhaps even a facade of safety, were he feeling especially forgiving.

"we're taking my car." crowley grumbles, finally finding the ground an easy scape to walk upon.

"fine by me." gabriel says, though it really, really isn't.

"and gabe?"

"what?"

crowley grins, fishing car keys from his pocket.

"thanks for helping."

**Author's Note:**

> i have thought abt this for 10 fucking years and its finally off my chest


End file.
